


Point of Contact

by leftfoottrapped (miikkaa_xx)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1271359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miikkaa_xx/pseuds/leftfoottrapped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being leader isn't easy, but Suho has Chen, and that helps better than most things. (PWP!fic; set in 2017)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Point of Contact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whatkindoftea (haeli)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haeli/gifts).



> for sweet [haley](http://whatkindoftea.tumblr.com/)'s birthday.
> 
>  **warnings:** future fic, language, explicit sex including: d/s undertones, exhibitionism, rimming, dirty talk. unbeta'd - feel free to point out any errors in prose and/or characterisation.

-

‘Do you remember the first time you kissed me?’

Jongdae is smiling, and it’s pushing his cheeks upwards, showing the sharp angles of his face. Joonmyeon’s fingers twitch in order to trace them but he resists. ‘I don’t think you should be asking me that at a company party, Jongdae-ah.’ He shifts his drink from one hand to another and scans the room of idols and executives, tracking the path of the other band members as they walk, eat, talk.

‘No, I think this is the best time,’ insists Jongdae, standing beside him as he also watches the band members. ‘In fact – this is probably the perfect time.’

‘Don’t be annoying, you’re not twenty two anymore,’ murmurs Joonmyeon, feeling irritation spike at the base of his throat. Chanyeol is grinning at some older woman as he explains something to her with grand hand gestures. He’s going to spill his drink. Someone – someone needs to be there to stop him –

‘Baekhyun,’ calls out Jongdae, and cocks his head. Baekhyun pops another snack from the table and glances over at Chanyeol before rolling his eyes and going to rescue him. Jongdae turns back to Joonmyeon with his irritating smile. ‘You’re right, I’m twenty five. That’s four whole years since you kissed me, isn’t it?’

Joonmyeon knows what game Jongdae is playing – to get him riled up in public and snap out loud. Maybe drag Jongdae aside somewhere private. To get him to _ask_. Except Joonmyeon doesn’t need to ask. Joonmyeon isn’t a burden – he’s a leader – and even if it’s the year 2017, and they’re between comeback number five and six, and things have been getting a little tighter, a little harder, and Joonmyeon might be feeling stretched a little thin –

‘Please go bother someone else, Jongdae.’ He gestures to Yixing in the corner, who is quietly talking to another idol, looking a little sleepy. It was past midnight after all. ‘Yixing seems to need a wake-up.’

‘Is that what you want?’ Jongdae’s voice is laden with subtext that he expects Joonmyeon to understand. After more than five years together, Joonmyeon almost hates that he automatically parses the words and puts them back together: _do you need me?_

Joonmyeon is completely in control and put-together. He is going to rescue Jongin from whatever is making his face go red, and he’s going to quietly urge Kyungsoo to talk and he’s going to let Sehun introduce his new acquaintances to Joonmyeon with flair in order to impress, and Joonmyeon’s going to play along. Joonmyeon has this entire situation absolutely in control.

With no reply forthcoming, Jongdae sighs – artificial and simpering, enough to grate at Joonmyeon all the more – and turns towards Yixing. ‘I’ll give you another hour then.’ _Another hour to find me and ask_.

If it’s a deadline, Joonmyeon memorizes the time as he glances at his watch. An hour puts him a quarter to two in the morning. The party might be done. Or not. He never knew when the managers got lax with exhaustion and alcohol and let their charges go back to dorms – company executives or not.

He wets his mouth, tasting his lip chap, and drowns the rest of his glass before putting it down in the table. With an elegant half-turn on shoes more expensive than his entire pre-debut wardrobe, Joonmyeon strides towards Jongin and begins.

Yifan is a good leader – that much Joonmyeon knows. Yifan can take the lead and do what he must – despite being a little shy and awkward and introverted. He’s grown up to be better of course, they all have. Hard to stand under the spotlight for more than five years and expect to remain static in their images and personalities.

Still – no matter how much Yifan grows, he will never be Joonmyeon. Yifan is the leader of EXO M, not the entirety of the band. EXO M barely needs a leader on a good day, but Yifan fills the spot of getting them ready and having them all in position anyway. He is leader just for the fact that it is hard to organize six people without at least someone stepping back out of the frame and assembling them together like beautiful puzzle pieces.

With twelve people – Joonmyeon is in charge. And – if their success so far is any indication – he is damn good at what he does. He reads people, reads the situation, and adjusts everything in his power to swim with the tide instead of against it. He knows what this industry wants, what these executives and artists want, what their demographic wants. And he will be damned before stopping any time soon and letting all his hard work go to waste because the rest of his band can’t sense a change as intuitively as he can.

At the end of the day, Yifan’s title doesn’t mean anything, nor do Jongdae’s prodding words, nor the other members as they relax with a degree of dependence that Joonmyeon doesn’t have. They don’t need to know everything in a room the way Joonmyeon does, but its fine. That’s what Joonmyeon is here for. To take care of them and make sure everything goes as planned. They might not be aware, but Joonmyeon is.

At the end of the day, Joonmyeon is leader and he is the one completely in control.

-

Five minutes before Jongdae’s hour is up, Joonmyeon is relieved to see the ballroom begin to empty out. It’s only a small trickle of people – some idols, their managers, a few older executives who have had too much to drink in too little a time.

However, his head is whipping around fast when he hears a screech. There’s a half-crowd around a woman, the stomach of her dress wet with alcohol as some black-haired boy bows over and over again in apology.

For one heart-stopping second, Joonmyeon thinks the boy is Chanyeol, and fierce, purpling rage rises up his esophagus, drowning out the sounds from the rest of the commotion as Joonmyeon’s brain begins to race through half a dozen apologies for the woman and twice as many punishments for Chanyeol once they’re back in the privacy of their own dorms.

The crowd shifts and parts, and the black-haired boy lifts his head, turning it in Joonmyeon’s direction. If it’s –

Joonmyeon’s breath hitches in his throat, the rage suffocating him, except it’s not Chanyeol. It’s some other tall idol, with a plastic nose and big, glassy eyes that shows he’s drunk and unbalanced. Someone is getting paper towels and cleaning up the mess, while the woman makes the decision to head home as her outfit has been ruined entirely.

His entire body is singing with tension. Joonmyeon _knows_ he’s breathing but he certainly doesn’t feel it as his chest goes too tight. For a moment, Joonmyeon realizes he might be having some sort of anxiety attack. The air in the room is thin, the people are being drowned out by his thundering heartbeat, and he needs – he needs –

Excusing himself as politely as he can from Sehun and company, he strides across the ballroom floor and slams into the bathroom, shutting the door closed as he tries to take a deep breath. Another.

He grabs the cool sides of the sink and stares at the faucets, turning it on to hear the rush of water and try to bury his thoughts under the sound. Quietly, he inhales and exhales, a practiced rhythm from the years before when he became so overwhelmed that it was hard to function.

Just when he thinks he’s going to be fine, his watch chimes, signaling that Jongdae’s hour is up. Joonmyeon clenches his jaw, jerking his head upwards. He needs – he needs –

Right then, the bathroom door opens and Jongdae steps inside, as well as Yixing and Zitao. ‘Hyung,’ he says, easy as can be. ‘You need fresh air.’ It’s not a suggestion.

Joonmyeon swallows, trying to wet his dry mouth and clear his head from the vague panic still swimming in his veins. He feels unsteady on his feet when he straightens up. ‘Jongdae,’ he greets, voice faint, but smile coming out strong and forced. ‘Yixing. Zitao.’

‘Let me show you to the balconies upstairs, duizhang,’ smiles Zitao, opening the bathroom door and beckoning with his hand.

With a flick of his eyes, Joonmyeon looks at Jongdae, but Jongdae isn’t looking back at him. Instead, Jongdae is speaking in hushed Mandarin to Yixing, too quick for Joonmyeon to keep up. He had to put a pause to his language studies when his responsibilities increased from six members to twelve in the past years.

‘Jongdae,’ says Joonmyeon, embarrassed at what sounds something like a plea in his voice.

Jongdae pulls away from Yixing’s ear, letting him and Zitao leave the bathroom. The door closes and leaves only Joonmyeon and Jongdae in the space, watching each other. ‘The fresh air will be better for you than in here,’ he says.

‘Will you be there?’ asks Joonmyeon, feeling his lungs begin to open up again as he stares at Jongdae’s familiar face. A comfort. He doesn’t realize he’s _asked_ until Jongdae pulls back the sleeve of his suit and checks his watch.

‘Just in time, hyung,’ he says, with pride in his voice, warmth in his expression. Joonmyeon feels himself flush with something that resembles happiness at the approval. ‘Of course I’ll be there. Just follow Tao up.’

Joonmyeon nods and walks past Jongdae, feeling the cooling sweat on his palms and the itch to rub it off on his suit sleeves. Instead, he busies himself on leaving the bathroom and nodding at Zitao. Zitao gestures to a door with stairs behind it and follows Joonmyeon up until they reach the second floor landing. Below, Joonmyeon sees the multi-coloured dresses and suits and heads of the party, how they all mix and mingle with one another. Behind the railing are another set of doors. Yixing appears with a key and unlocks them.

‘Where is the security?’ asks Joonmyeon when he notices no one else on the second floor. Behind him, Yixing pushes the doors open to let in a wash of cool air from the outside.

‘Don’t worry about it, gege,’ says Zitao with another smile and nudges Joonmyeon through the doors. ‘Chen will be here soon enough. Enjoy the weather for now.’

Hustled like this would bug Joonmyeon, but he is off-kilter to begin with and lets the doors close behind him when he steps onto the balcony in the cool night air. The view is of half the garden and half the parking lot, nothing particularly exciting. It’s at an angle where Joonmyeon has to crane his neck forward and down in order to see the people exit the building. If they do happen to glance upwards, Joonmyeon reassures himself that at least his face will be obscured by the night, if not his entire body.

Caught in his thoughts, he almost misses when the balcony doors open and then close shut once more, footsteps approaching Joonmyeon from behind. ‘Jongdae-ah,’ he calls out, and feels an arm slide around his waist as Jongdae appears at his side, smiling.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Better,’ admits Joonmyeon, inhaling the crispness of the air, how it prickles along the exposed skin of his hands and neck, with just enough bite to jolt him awake and let the fog of his anxiety seep away from his mind.

‘Good. I’m glad.’ Jongdae is still looking at him with that lovely expression of affection in his eyes. It surprises Joonmyeon even now that five years of being together, Jongdae warmth doesn’t waver, doesn’t fade. Smiling slightly, Joonmyeon leans forward and presses his mouth against the other’s, feels the pliancy of Jongdae’s lips, how they open up for him so easily.

He supposes he shouldn’t be kissing Jongdae outside in plain sight – but the night is dark, the balcony high up, and this is what he needs. He just needs Jongdae to kiss him back – warm and wet – with his hands on Joonmyeon’s hips, tugging him closer, till their knees are bumping under their expensive dress pants as Jongdae sucks filthily on Joonmyeon’s tongue.

With a jerk, Joonmyeon pulls away, breathing hard. His ears are most definitely burning and maybe his cheeks too as the cool air pricks at his skin. Jongdae rakes his eyes over Joonmyeon’s expression, clearly liking what he sees, because his mouth is curling up to the side in content. ‘You’re so pretty, hyung.’

The compliment slides sideways and ends up in Joonmyeon’s stomach, making him flush even more. He shuffles back toward Jongdae and kisses him again, tries to muffle anything else that might come from his mouth.

This time, Jongdae pulls away, his mouth shining and wet. ‘Want everyone to see you like this.’ His hand comes up, brushes a thumb across Joonmyeon’s cheekbone, his gaze intense. ‘How you look when you’re gasping for it.’ He takes a firm grip of Joonmyeon’s chin – tight enough to demand obedience, but loose enough for Joonmyeon to pull away. It keeps Joonmyeon’s hackles down. ‘In front of a camera – your favourite.’

‘Jongdae,’ says Joonmyeon, something like a protest on his tongue, when Jongdae tilts his head forward and licks at his mouth.

‘Want to show you off,’ murmurs Jongdae hotly against Joonmyeon’s wet mouth. ‘The most gorgeous hyung.’

‘Jongdae-ah,’ huffs out Joonmyeon, almost irritated by all this kissing and nothing else – he thought he had asked Jongdae, asked to be – to be –

‘So I need you to turn around,’ says Jongdae finally, his voice deep and rippling over Joonmyeon’s skin, sending shivers down his spine. ‘Lean forward. Grip the railing.’

With a clenched jaw, Joonmyeon does as told, still holding tight to his control. Jongdae will treat him right, he _knows_ this, but old habits die hard. For now, he acquiesces to the words, but doesn’t arch his back nor preen for more compliments. Only stares out from over the railing at the blackness of the sky, the flashing lights of the cars in the parking lot as they turn on and pull out to go home from the party. Or numerous parties in the hotel. Who knew.

The heat at his back signals that Jongdae is there, but Joonmyeon gasps anyway when quick, small hands tug at his belt, the button and zip of his dress pants. Quickly and roughly, Jongdae tugs the waistband of his underwear and pants over his hips and exposes his ass and his half-hard cock to the air.

‘Fuck – Jongdae – ’ Alarm rises up Joonmyeon’s throat when he sees the people in the parking lot. They could look up. They could fucking _see_ – now that his fucking junk was hanging out. Anything else he was going to say gets lost when – ‘ _fuck_ , Jongdae – !’

Jongdae pulls his tongue away from Joonmyeon’s ass and Joonmyeon can _hear_ the shit-eating grin in his voice. ‘Is that what you want?’

‘What are you _doing_?’ growls out Joonmyeon, except his hands are still gripping the railing of the balcony and he’s still _standing_ here – stock still, just as Jongdae asked. He bares his teeth in irritation, more at himself. This wasn’t – this wasn’t –

‘Eating out your ass, hyung.’ Jongdae accentuates his point by dragging his tongue over Joonmyeon’s rim, almost making Joonmyeon’s knees buckle. ‘I think you like it.’

‘Jong – ah – _dae_ – ’ spits out Joonmyeon, chin dropping to his collarbone as he feels his ass cheeks parted and the flat of Jongdae’s warm tongue against his clenching hole. He tries to speak, to protest, but Jongdae is eager and sloppy, enough to make whimper escape Joonmyeon’s throat.

He can’t help it – Jongdae is running his tongue over the skin, over and over again, and then begins to scrape his thumbnail gently around the rim, making Joonmyeon moan and try to push his hips back.

‘I hope your eyes aren’t closed, hyung,’ mentions Jongdae, steel under his playful tone. Joonmyeon swallows to wet his dry mouth, hips humping the air as Jongdae rubs his spit all over his asshole. He blinks open his eyes – not even realizing they were closed – and shakes his head.

‘Open, open,’ he gasps out, wanting Jongdae’s thumb inside of him already, or his tongue back on his skin, or anything – fuck, anything –

‘Good boy,’ murmurs Jongdae before burying his face against Joonmyeon’s ass, tonguing happily at the hole. The words sear against Joonmyeon’s skin and he twists his hips, rides back on Jongdae’s face, a gasp in his throat. He isn’t a good boy, he’s in control, he tells other boys how good they are, he isn’t this needy, sweating thing between Jongdae’s hands –

‘They’re going to see,’ he gasps out, watching the cars in the lot, how one of them is just pulling out of its parking spot and driving out onto the sideroad to feed into the main traffic up ahead. ‘Oh – Jongdae – hah – they’re going to _see_ – ’

Jongdae scrapes his teeth across the skin, and Joonmyeon’s hands twist on the railings, but he doesn’t let go. ‘I want them to, don’t you?’

Joonmyeon’s eyes go wide. ‘No – nono _no_ – ’

‘Yes,’ hisses the other. Suddenly, there are two thumbs hooking at the rim of Joonmyeon’s loosened, wet hole, and he feels himself be pulled apart as Jongdae fucks his tongue right inside. Joonmyeon makes a pathetic noise in his throat and rides down against Jongdae’s face, tries to get his tongue as deep as it can.

‘Please, Jongdae,’ he sobs out, and is embarrassed as his control cracks and falls apart in ugly pieces around him as Jongdae takes him apart with just a tongue. His cock is hanging heavy between his thighs despite the air, despite the people in the lot, despite all the ‘no’ still laden on Joonmyeon’s tongue, his safeword rolling in his mouth. He doesn’t know what’s worse – the fact that they’re doing this or how he’s getting off on it so wonderfully.

‘Please what?’ Jongdae pulls his tongue away and slides in a finger instead, finger-fucking him slow and steady, getting in deeper than his tongue ever will. ‘Please let them see? How filthy you are? How badly you want them to see you with your pretty, blushing face and cute, leaking cock, hm?’

Joonmyeon’s cock twitches again, spits out some more precome. ‘Jongdae,’ he begs instead of answering, unable to form the words.

‘You’re so fucking gorgeous, hyung,’ hums Jongdae, leaving a kiss on the swell of one ass cheek, then the other, his finger still fucking Joonmyeon’s ass open. Joonmyeon’s hips have found Jongdae’s rhythm and begins to rock along, stuffing Jongdae’s finger as deep as he can manage before pulling back and then sliding his hips down again.

‘God – fuck – please – ’ Joonmyeon is falling apart, doesn’t know what to do, unable to tear his eyes away from the people walking through the dark, the click of their shoes on the gravel, thinks – almost hysterically –

‘Want them to see you shaking like this, hyung,’ says Jongdae, shoving in a second finger and almost making Joonmyeon’s knees buckle. ‘Pretty leader of an award-winning band – look at how he’s going to fucking come,’ and Joonmyeon lets out a broken sound, ‘that’s right – fucking _come_ with my tongue in your ass.’

‘ _Jongdae_ ,’ says Joonmyeon, desperate, and Jongdae begins to lick filthily around his fingers that are fucking into Joonmyeon’s fluttering hole. His other hand cups Joonmyeon’s aching cock, using his own precome to slick it wet and jerk him off quick and fast.

Joonmyeon hiccups and moans – wonders if they’ll hear him, if they’ll glance up, how they’ll enjoy the sight of him with his ass against Jongdae’s face and his cock being jerked off. How they’ll savour the sight of pretty, pretty Joonmyeon’s pale, flushed skin against the night sky, how luminous he looks with his arousal. How they’ll come to love Joonmyeon with his perfect performance for Jongdae – how he doesn’t waver under Jongdae’s instruction, but obeys them without a step out of line, and how Jongdae is rewarding him now by eating out his hole and stroking his hard cock fast and tight just the way Joonmyeon likes it.

‘That’s right – this is what you asked for,’ says Jongdae as he pulls his face away, both his hands still working Joonmyeon’s ass and dick. ‘You _needed_ this – to be broken down, taken apart, piece by piece.’

Joonmyeon wants to deny it, but he can’t because it’s true. Control is for Jongdae now – the only responsibility Joonmyeon has is to be as gorgeous as he can when he comes, as pliant and willing, all those thoughts of schedules and discipline and getting ready on time erased from his mind when he feels Jongdae’s fingers graze his prostate, the twist of Jongdae’s wrist on each upstroke.

‘That’s right – give it up for them.’ Them – the audience, the people below, the lights of their cars, the hum of traffic. ‘Show it to them what you show me – do it, hyung.’

‘Ah, ah, ah,’ pants Joonmyeon, his hips fucking back on the fingers then right back upwards into Jongdae’s fist as he feels his orgasm coil tightly into his stomach. ‘Jongdae – Jongdae – ’

‘Come for me,’ growls Jongdae.

With an order like that, Joonmyeon lets out a helpless, broken cry and rides down hard on Jongdae’s fingers as his cock begins to spit out ropes and ropes of warm semen, striping the bottom of the railing and the bars of the balcony, some of it possibly falling through to fall below. He doesn’t know – can’t see and can’t even _think_ about something like that. His knees feel pathetically weak, risking falling over, but Jongdae catches him about the waist with his arm, raising him up and walking him backwards slowly and carefully.

Eventually, they reach the closed balcony doors. Jongdae nudges for Joonmyeon to lean his shoulders and head against them as Jongdae tucks his softened cock into the underwear. With another swift motion, Jongdae has Joonmyeon dressed and put together again, dress pants buttoned and shirt and suit jacket straightened out. Only thing that’s left is the satiation seated deep in Joonmyeon’s bones, the sweat drying under the cool air against his skin, and the flush still painted over his cheeks.

Blinking blearily, Joonmyeon finally seems to regain a sense of control over his limbs and shifts to look at Jongdae, gaze dropping to the tent to Jongdae’s pants. He reaches out a hand, but Jongdae catches his wrist and tangles their fingers together instead. ‘Not today. You can take care of me when we get back to the dorms.’

Joonmyeon nods and tips his head back, exposing his throat in perfect submission. Jongdae smiles – warm and affectionate – and nuzzles against the skin, leaving soft, nipping kisses along the underside of Joonmyeon’s jaw. ‘Thank you, hyung,’ he murmurs against the skin.

‘No, thank you,’ sighs out Joonmyeon, feeling utterly relaxed as he drapes his arms around Jongdae’s waist, dragging him close into a hug. ‘Needed that.’

‘Ready to go back inside?’

‘Not yet, want to kiss you a little more first.’ The words make Jongdae laugh, so Joonmyeon presses their mouths together right then, just to feel the sound vibrate down his spine and stay warm in his stomach.

When they part, Jongdae leans their foreheads together. ‘So – should I have fucked you against the railing or…’

Joonmyeon rolls his eyes. ‘I think you did just fine.’

‘Hm, something to try next time then.’

‘Shut up, punk – we’re going back to that party now and taking care of this band.’

‘Hyung,’ whines Jongdae with a grin on his face, but nods and pulls out his phone from his pocket, sending a text. Half a minute later, Yixing is opening the door with a soft smile that Joonmyeon returns.

‘Was the breath of fresh air good for you?’ he asks, genuinely concerned.

‘Yes, thank you,’ replies Joonmyeon, ‘but I saw a lot of guests beginning to go home. I think it’s time we did as well. Let everyone know while I talk to manager-nim, won’t you?’

‘Of course,’ replies Jongdae, helping Yixing close the balcony doors and chatting pleasantly in a clusterfuck of Korean and Mandarin. One day, Joonmyeon would have to get a handle on that language – but he would save that for later. For now, he has a job to do, and the right frame of mind to do it.

-

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed~!!


End file.
